Love You Anyway
by revengehero
Summary: Peter comes home to a surprising house guest after a hard day's work. Loosely based on Season Four, the early half. "Petrellicest"
1. Chapter 1

Hello All! This is my first "Petrellicest" fanfic. This is based loosely on the early part of Season Four. Rated M (MA?) for safety's sake. Chapter One is posted here and the second will follow shortly. Please read and review. Standard disclaimer: I don't own Heroes, our dear Petrellis, or Sylar (sigh!).

Love You Anyway—by Revengehero

Chapter One

Peter was exhausted. After a full day's work of saving lives, and he still felt like hell. He kept thinking of his relationship with Nathan and the shambles that was in and found he felt so bad he could just sit and cry. Fuck that, he told himself angrily. What good would that do? After all, he was busy putting his life back together—and that life did not have to include Nathan.

"Hey Pete." A voice as familiar as his own called out softly from behind the chair he had just collapsed into. Nearly falling out of said chair, he spun to face Nathan. "I left you three messages…You never called me." A pause. "You okay? You look like hell." Nathan's brow furrowed as he looked at Peter with concern.

"Gee thanks, I'm fine. You try pulling two shifts of actually helping people and see if you look neat and pressed. Those of us who earn a living look like it sometimes." Peter got up and out of the chair before Nathan could lay his hands soothingly on his shoulders. Nathan followed him into the kitchen where he was getting a bottle of water and a snack.

"What the hell you doin' here anyway?" Peter didn't much care what Nathan answered (or so he told himself) but planned instantly to go to bed after having his snack. Nathan could go fuck himself for all he cared. His shoulders ached from lack of sleep. He saw no reason to sit up with his worthless brother. "I'm here because I need you, Pete. I've been having strange dreams. Sometimes I look back on my life and feel like none of it's my own." Nathan looked at his hands like they were part of someone else's body. He looked so worried, so beaten, completely unlike himself that Peter almost told him just to sit and make himself at home, and that they could sit and talk like old times.

Then he remembered why his brother felt guilty. He was. "I wouldn't want that to be my life either. You feel that way when you're an asshole." A look of pain and anger swept across Nathan's face. He suddenly reached out and Peter's drink went flying out of his hand, landing expertly in Nathan's open palm. Not a drop spilled.

"How the fuck did you do that?" Peter asked, bewildered. "I don't know!" Nathan spat out. "I just can." His face crumpled. "Pete, help me, please. What's happening to me?" Peter shook his head. "I don't know." He looked into Nathan's eyes and felt a wave of pity and love for Nathan that he just couldn't shrug off. He allowed his brother's embrace to climb softly around his body, wrapping up his back and shoulders. "Thank you Pete."

When they pulled back there was an awkward silence. Nathan held Peter's gaze for longer than even the closest of brothers were accustomed to. Nathan's voice dropped to a soothing, barely audible whisper as his hands caressed Peter's shoulders and neck. "I've missed you so much. I love you so much." He leaned in and kissed Peter on the forehead. Then suddenly as if surprised, Nathan pulled back. "What's wro—?" Peter stopped when he saw the look on his brother's face. He was smiling at him…rather seductively. "Peterrrr." He purred before leaning forward to kiss him full on the mouth. Nathan had Peter pinned against the wall before he could even react in the slightest way.

Peter was frozen with desire as much as fear. Oh God. His hero. His brother. No! Peter couldn't allow this. That was when he realized that he couldn't get free even if he wanted to. Nathan was using Power to hold him against the wall without even realizing it. Peter exchanged kiss for kiss, afraid to risk an escape. Nathan's passion had begun to be painful. Peter could barely breathe as he was being pressed into the wall. He could feel Nathan's erection pressing into him as his kisses grew hungrier and deeper. Nathan's hands tore off Peter's t-shirt and were soon working their way to unzipping his jeans when Peter surprised himself and yanked off Nathan's tie. His own passion aroused in spite of his fear, he decided to succumb to temptation. Off with his suit jacket. He tore off the button-down white shirt as soon as he got to it. Bare chests pressed against each other. What was fear when they had this burning between them? This was Nathan and he couldn't keep his hands from caressing him everywhere.

"God Pete. I've always wanted to do this to you. You belong to me. I've felt this way about you for so long, needed you always." His brother rasped in his ear. Pulling Peter against him again, he shoved him into his small bedroom and against the covers of his bed. As he kissed and touched everywhere, Nathan couldn't keep his mind quiet. Why had he waited so long to do this? Why had he always left his brother who worshipped him to vain lust to chase after everyone else? Why would he be disloyal to a younger brother that he himself idolized in return? Since when did he care about appearances?

Nathan was inside the only person he truly loved. Warm and welcoming, Peter moved against him so sweetly he thought he would cry. No one had ever loved him or treated him so kindly. Growing up with no one and nothing.

Wait. That wasn't true. He cared about appearances because he was a politician, and he'd grown up with every advantage under the sun. Why did he feel so confused, like a stranger to his own life? It doesn't matter! Nathan told himself. Give everything in this moment to Peter. "I love you Pete. I love you so much."

"Nathan, don't cry. I love you too." Their lovemaking had went from frighteningly rough to tearfully gentle. As Pete came underneath him, Nathan felt his own body release. Instead of feeling guilty for seducing his brother as he'd always been afraid he would, he found that he felt much better. Clean. Clear headed. Stable. He wasn't alone; he had someone who loved him unconditionally. With Pete's arms wrapped around him, he fell asleep.

* * *

If either of them had awoken suddenly in the night, they would have been both surprised and horrified to see the change that took place at approximately 2am and did not go away until about 7am. It started around the eyes and went in a visible ripple all the way down and across Nathan's form. In very little time, the form of Sylar, still curled around Peter's naked body comfortably, took shape. When both men awoke, smiling, happy, talkative, neither showed any sign of Sylar having been in their midst.

~End of Chapter One; Chapter Two Coming Shortly~

Thank you for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

When Nathan woke up that morning, he felt more alive than ever. Before this day, this new energy was more frightening than exhilarating. After his night with Pete, he thought he'd at least have a twinge of guilt or fear. He scanned his mind and found none. Smiling to himself, he continued with his morning routine. He could smell his favorite breakfast being cooked. Pete was downstairs making eggs and pancakes and had refused Nathan's offers of assistance. Who else knew that he liked only those two foods for breakfast, and with lemonade to boot?

As he finished cleaning up the basin in the bathroom, he thought he saw someone looking in at him from behind—a face reflected in the mirror. A quick check told him that the only face looking back was his. His face. A beat. A few seconds more. Something was wrong. The feeling hit him in the stomach like news of a horrible accident. He didn't know what, but it had to be something. His face? Was that really him? The smile he gave to reassure didn't help—it was fake, the smile of a politician. "Stop it" he told himself aloud, "that only works at election time". The smile he gave now was genuine—deliberately turning his back to the mirror in Pete's bathroom, he smoothed back his hair and headed down to breakfast, and Peter.

When he got downstairs, he saw the lemonade had been already poured for him and was sitting next to a plate of pancakes and scrambled eggs. Nathan realized that his favorite food being cooked was more than comforting; he was starving after a full night's exertion. Pete turned around and gave Nathan one of his crooked grins that Nathan loved so much. "I thought this would perk you up a bit…wouldn't want you to lose your strength." Then he did something he didn't expect Pete to do. He leaned over as if it were the most natural thing in the world and kissed him deeply on the mouth. "Ummmm…" Nathan groaned. "Breakfast prepared, kissing and touching…I could get used to this." Peter smiled at Nathan's reaction. "Maybe if you don't make yourself such a stranger around here you might get used to this really quick." Nathan embraced Peter in a hug, and placed a teasing kiss on his throat. "Well let's eat before we get _too_ distracted."

Nathan's morning ritual was always odd, Pete thought. He never could understand how in the hell someone could eat eggs and pancakes together and wash it down with lemonade. But, he always did when Pete cooked. He would load the fork with a scoop of egg, catch a piece of the fluffy pancake, and swoop the whole bite with far too much syrup. When Nathan scooped his first bite and put it in his mouth, Pete waited for the moan of pleasured taste buds. He could hardly believe his brother's reaction this morning. Nathan's face turned purple and taking a swig of lemonade sure as hell didn't help. "Goddamn it Pete. What the hell is this? I'm gonna be sick." Nathan looked as if he would make good on his promise… he had gone from purple to green in two seconds flat. "Nate, you always eat this for breakfast." Nathan spat out the food into the trash, looking almost scared. Why? Pete heard him mumble something that sounded like "the eggs must've gone bad." Pete noticed that he looked worried, and anxious to get away from his inquiring gaze. "You okay, bud?" Nathan put on a wide grin. "Yeah Pete. Just a little nervous about all our new changes I guess." Pete frowned "You regret what happened then, between us?" Nathan put his hands on Pete's shoulders. "God no… ….You're the best thing in the whole world. I really do love you." He looked to Peter as if he were surprising himself with this statement. Nathan leaned in to kiss him, soft and tender, reverberating with pure need. "I gotta go. If you see Ma today, ask her where she wants to go out to dinner this weekend." And with that Nathan scooped up his coat and left. Left Pete standing in the kitchen wondering what the hell had just happened.

***

Peter heard a knock at the door. "Just a minute" he called out. He hoped it was just someone who had the wrong apartment door. He was trying to get ready for work and didn't really have time for a visitor. He was astonished (and a bit excited) when he opened the door to see his idol standing there. "Nathan, what are you doing here? I gotta be at work in 10." Nathan smiled at him possessively and pushed the door gently to the side, pressing against Peter and leaning in for a kiss, muttering "But I had to see you." Peter frowned. "Is something wrong? Since when do you get time in the morning on a weekday to drop in?" Nathan's smile dropped. "What…not glad to see me? I just needed to see ya. Couldn't you call in sick?" Pete put his arms around Nathan loosely, and then settled for putting his hands on Nathan's shoulders. "Look…I have abilities…I save lives…if I'm not there then another worker will have to fill in for me." Nathan smiled "I'm sure there are others who need the work too." Peter was starting to get frustrated as he shrugged on his messenger bag. "But Nathan, they don't have powers…I do…I can save more people. I can't work round the clock but I gotta do what I can. See you later tonight though?" Nathan surprised both himself and Peter with his answer: "Fine, go. I don't really give a shit. Just be ready to go to dinner tonight with me and Ma—we have to go tonight because Ma's got a fundraiser this weekend. If you care about seeing her either." Peter tried to grab his brother's arm as he stepped towards the door. "Nathan, don't be like this. You know I love you, and Ma. Of course I'm gonna be there. What's with you anyway?" Nathan paused. "I don't know Pete. I--I gotta go. Nathan stormed out of the apartment. But not before Peter saw something that horrified him worse than any accident he'd ever been called in on. The face that looked back at him with such intense anger as Nathan walked out the door was Sylar's.

***

Sylar. Oh my God. That's what was wrong. Peter couldn't believe what he'd just seen. He felt like he was going to throw up. That would explain the different behavior at breakfast and his anger just now. Would it explain the reunion, and the lovemaking as well? He and Nathan had discussed their desire for one another after making love. It couldn't have been Sylar. Peter reflected on their conversation. Nathan had known things and talked about situations they had been in that Sylar knew nothing about. Nathan's passion for him started at an early age, and Nathan couldn't resist telling him about the many times he had thought about revealing his true feelings, but could never find a way to do so. Certainly Nathan's feelings for him were real. But how to explain the appearance of Sylar? How would he find out what Sylar had done with him? He had a million questions and no way to get the answers. What was he supposed to do now?


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Nathan couldn't figure it out. Even before they'd…gotten closer…Pete usually couldn't go two days without calling and talking to his big brother. Now, it had been about three weeks with little more than one or two emails saying little more than hello.

Even after the worst of fights, three weeks would've been impossible. The only time they'd gone longer than that was because of Nathan…his fault.

How the hell had he just gotten back into his brother's good graces, and even his bed, only to lose him again? And what had been going on with him—he thought having Pete would fix everything. Now, it seemed that having Peter gave him that much more to lose.

Those feelings of being trapped in his own body had intensified to the point of being completely absurd, and frightening. He'd spent two hours yesterday looking into his own eyes.

He was astonished at how foreign they looked…had they always been such a light shade of brown? And that shape? Things that were perfectly normal in his house or in his office looked so out of place. Was this, as his mother had said, simply what it meant to hit forty and experience a midlife crisis?

No longer interested in his mother's advice to find a woman of questionable virtue and a red sports car, he decided instead to make Peter talk to him. How could he live with himself if he let him slip away?

Of course, just when Nathan needed him the most, that was when Peter would be off doing his deeds of mercy and kindness. Apparently since he and his medical bag were gone, he was out rescuing the helpless mortals of the world with no abilities.

As he sat in Peter's scantily furnished living room, he realized how tired he'd been lately. Maybe it really was just middle age setting in, he thought scornfully. Without meaning to, he drifted off to sleep.

Peter slipped in after dark and shrugged his messenger bag with its medical supplies off into the floor with a light thud. He looked like death warmed over…he hadn't been eating or sleeping correctly for far too long.

He missed Nathan every waking moment, but wasn't really sure what to do about it. He thought he'd drink something a little stronger than water tonight before he tried to go to bed. That's when he saw Nathan lying on his couch.

Peter felt a strong rush of affection and worry simultaneously—it wasn't common for his brother to come in and wait…you waited on him. "Nate?"

Peter's brow came to a crease in the middle when he realized the form was far too dark and muscular to be Nathan. The form stretched a bit and sat up. "Peter? What? Where the hell am I?" A pause. "What have you done to me?" A very vulnerable and angry Sylar looked into his eyes questioningly.

Peter without even thinking picked up Sylar and threw him to the floor. "Tell me what you've done to my brother!" His own violence shocked him, and what was even more shocking was the expression on Sylar's face.

He looked as though he were about to cry, whether from heartbreak or fear would've been anyone's guess.

"What the hell are you talking about? I'm hungry, I'm sick, and I have no idea how I got here. I'm gonna be sick!" Sylar sat up, and then doubled over in pain. "Help me…please Pete…help me."

Peter was a nurse, an EMT. He couldn't ignore years of training that said to help instead of do harm.

Also, though he'd never admit it to himself, he couldn't say no to Sylar's heart wrenching plea. It sounded so real.

Peter ran to get his supplies, but Sylar jerked him back. "No…stay with me." He ground out. "Stay right here. Help me." And with this, Sylar leaned into Peter's arms, his head on Peter's chest and his arms wrapped around his waist.

Peter knew that trying to get information out of Sylar right now would be of no use. If he could get sick and be hungry even though he had Claire's power, what else might be wrong with him? If Sylar died, who would lead him to Nathan? He had to find Nathan.

That was of course the only reason why Peter folded his arms around Sylar, and began softly stroking his forehead. "Ssshhh. It's okay. I'm right here. Hang on bud, you're just fine. Breathe. Brreeeeathe." Peter spoke soothingly, and soon felt Sylar's body relax into his hold. "Just breathe." He repeated until Sylar had all but fallen asleep.

Peter was startled when Sylar began to speak. "Thank you Pete. Don't let me go." Sylar looked up at him, but something was not right. It was Sylar, but Nathan's voice. Not knowing what to do, Peter kept holding him, afraid to move and fearing the worst, not even able to imagine what that could be.

Sylar knew that he shouldn't want Peter to help him. But he needed him so badly. His arms felt like they belonged around him.

So why shouldn't he indulge the feeling, especially if Petrelli was willing to oblige? It didn't make sense that he would, but with the way he was feeling he found he couldn't look a gift horse in the mouth.

He felt like his stomach was turning itself into spinning knots. Nothing came up though, and finally the pain went away.

How nice it felt just to do exactly as Pete told him to. Relax, fall back into his arms just as though there were a place carved out only for him. He couldn't stop the begging he heard come out of his mouth. "Thank you Pete. Don't let me go."

If Sylar could have laughed at that moment, he would've been tempted to. The expression on Petrelli's face was one of utter bewilderment, shaping his handsome face into surprising contortions. But something also wrenched in Sylar's heart…he hadn't meant to scare Peter.

And he had…the only time anyone had ever held him so tight was his mother, and that was when he had nearly died from pneumonia. His eyes had rolled back into his head and his skin had turned death white. His mother wasn't crying and neither was Petrelli now—but the worry in their arms was almost tight enough to suffocate.

If this was love or concern, or even just pity, he'd take it. He just had no idea why he wanted it.

Peter had kept watch over Sylar as he slept. He was beginning to look better. His color was returning and his breathing was slowly going back to its regular rhythm. Sylar began to move, and then his eyes opened.

"Do you want something to eat? Do you feel up to it?" Peter asked.

Sylar didn't speak but just nodded his head. A pause. "Why am I here?" Sylar asked.

Peter cocked his head to one side and his eyes narrowed a bit. "You tell me? Why are you here?" Finding he had no answer, he shrugged.

"I don't know…I feel as if I've been away somewhere for a long time…I-I don't know what's happened to me. I can't remember anything since…" Sylar tried to continue and found he couldn't. What was the last thing he could remember?

He knew that he was supposed to hate Petrelli and he couldn't. He had killed his mother. He wasn't supposed to run to Peter for help or anyone else. He was a monster. But yet, here he was. He looked up at Peter.

"I'm scared." He'd said it without even knowing it was going to come out. But again there was the truth. He didn't hate Peter, he hated being a monster, and he wanted to stay.

Peter straightened a bit and his face steeled itself as if he were expecting a fight. "I'll go make you dinner. Just stay right here." And with that, he walked off to the kitchen. And Sylar did as he was told, not because he couldn't get up and move, but because he found he wanted to.


	4. Chapter 4

-1Chapter Four

By Revengehero

Sylar sat upright on the couch and waited for Peter to return. He knew that Petrelli was just in the kitchen, but it made him nervous to be alone with even that much space.

Sylar scoffed in his mind.

_What? And when he gets back with the food would you like for him to come and set on your lap? Or sit on his lap like a good little boy so maybe you'll feel safe?_ He was used to the inner voice that told him he was a loser. He was shocked by how little impact that voice was having tonight.

He didn't feel one bit guilty for wanting Peter to come back. And the idea of Peter sitting in his lap made things stir that shouldn't even be awake. What the hell was going on here?

Peter interrupted his thoughts. Poking his head into the living room but still standing in the kitchen, he called out his name. "Do you wanna come in and eat? Do you feel up to sitting at the table or do you need me to bring it in to you?

Some of Sylar's strength had returned. "I'll come in." As he rose, he found that he was still weaker than he'd thought. He stumbled a bit but found that falling wasn't an option...Petrelli had rushed to his side to stabilize him.

"Still a bit shaky there. Let's get you into the kitchen." Peter looked up when he realized that Sylar wasn't moving. Sylar was just looking at him with those intense, dark brown eyes. Peter found for a second that he couldn't breathe under such gentle scrutiny. His eyes really were captivating.

Then, the spell broke. Sylar muttered a tiny laugh. "Sorry. Guess my third foot tripped me up." His eyes went to the floor. Peter forced a smile in return. "C'mon. You'll be steady on your feet once you've had a bite or two."

Sylar sat down to a dinner of steak, potatoes, and green beans. He felt his hunger return. He paused a moment to look at Petrelli as he was doing the dishes.

And felt an overwhelming image flood his brain. _Petrelli smiled a crooked smile as he lay under him in bed. "Touch me." The vision said. "I need you." And he did. He ran his hand down Petrelli's back and down to his backside. Where a small tattoo sat just above his buttocks. _

Sylar felt a hot rush of arousal as he snapped back to the present. His little vision didn't exactly help him feel more steady. He heard a tiny moan escape as he refocused on dinner. Peter noticed that Sylar's face looked flushed and his eyes were shining.

What on earth is going on with him? Peter wondered. Maybe it was a fever, or maybe such a heavy meal was too much. For being so hungry, he hadn't eaten very much. He finished washing the last pan and put it away.

He laid his hand on Sylar's forehead and felt that it was warm, but not necessarily feverish. "You okay there? You look like you're having trouble breathing?" His face was frowning with concern. Sylar struggled to speak. "Yeah. 'M okay." He took a bite to prove it...and to distract himself from Petrelli's hand which wasn't so much feeling of his face now was simply rubbing it lightly.

A gentle touch.

Peter realized how weird that must have looked and stopped, jerking back his hand in what he hoped didn't look like too embarrassed of a gesture. Sylar realized that he was very disappointed...the feel of Peter's hand on his face was so nice. Just like the hug.

_And what about the vision?_ The little voice asked. _Where did that come from? Are you that desperate for contact? Since when?_

Sylar couldn't stop himself. He reached his hand out and began rubbing Petrelli's hand, the one Petrelli had jerked away too quickly. "Thank you. I don't know what's wrong. But I'm sure that I can finish this meal in no time. Get back on my feet and out of your hair."

Sylar squeezed Peter's hand and then let it go. Just as if it were the most natural thing on earth. He deliberately avoided looking at Petrelli so he wouldn't have to react to the look of astonished fear in his eyes. If he had looked, he would've seen those things...and another emotion that wasn't entirely clear.

Peter stepped back a bit from the table. "I'll let you eat in peace, okay? I'm just gonna go get your room ready. You can call me if you need anything."

Sylar looked up. "My room? No, it's okay. I can leave. You don't have to keep me here. I'll be all right. I-I know you don't want me here." There. He'd refused. He didn't want to, but he knew that he made Petrelli uncomfortable.

"No. You're staying here. You're sick and you don't need to travel." His face suddenly tugged up into that crooked smile that hit Sylar like a punch to the stomach. "Better do as I say."

Sylar chuckled. "Is that your professional medical opinion, dear Nurse?" He didn't expect Peter's reaction. Instead of smiling, alarm crossed his face. It took him an extra beat to voice a comeback. "Sure is. I'll be back in a bit."

After dinner, Sylar washed his dishes and put them away before Petrelli could get back down. The last thing he wanted to do was leave his host a mess. And he found that he was feeling a lot better. As long as he didn't think.

When he tried to remember where he had been or why he was here, he found that two frightening things happened. He couldn't remember why he was at Petrelli's house, and he could think of anywhere else he wanted to be. He kept having visions of Peter that made it uncomfortable to be anywhere near the youngest Petrelli...and pleasurable.

"You didn't have to do that." A gruff voice came from the door. "Here, go to bed. I could've cleaned up." Peter tapped Sylar on the arm. "Off to bed with you." A tightening sensation in Sylar's stomach nearly knocked him over as he pictured Peter leading him to a bedroom and being tossed on the bed.

"I'm sorry. Not like you know the way." Peter led him to an unused spare room, full of odds and ends and a tiny bed. "I'm just across the hall. There's a small bathroom in the back furnished with everything you need for tonight and in the morning. Need anything else just come get me."

Peter nodded a goodnight and started to slip out of the room when Sylar grabbed Petrelli's shoulder. "Pete I don't know what to say. I can't believe how nice it's been to be here tonight." Petrelli almost jumped back.

"Don't say anything. No need. You needed help so here it is. Simple as that." His voice softened just a bit since Sylar looked a little hurt from the harsh tone. "Hope you feel better in the morning. Goodnight." And with a small smile, Peter shut the door.

It was far into the night when Peter thought he heard the sound of someone shouting. As Peter listened closely he realized it was Sylar. He was crying and begging his mother to let him into her room.

Thunk. It sounded as if Sylar had just fallen out of bed. Peter slipped off the cover and ran to the guest bedroom. "Sylar?" He saw the dark muscular form lying on the floor, muttering incoherently and crying in his sleep.

"Sylar! Wake up!" Sylar stopped mumbling but still hadn't fully awoken. Peter felt strong arms embrace his torso and pull him down. "Hold me." The sleeping form begged. Peter leaned into Sylar and hugged him back. Just to get him to stop crying." After a few minutes, Sylar woke.

"What?-What's happened?" Peter stroked the side of his face and brushed away a few tears. "You had a nightmare and fell out of bed. Are you okay?" Sylar pulled Peter tighter for a moment and nodded yes. Peter began to slowly push away. As if asking for permission before sitting up.

"Here. Let me help you back into bed." Peter helped Sylar rise to his feet and get into bed. Tucking him in almost like a brother. "I'm sorry." Sylar said, voice still strained with the need to cry. "Why? It's okay. Just go back to sleep." Peter turned to leave. He had been sitting on the bed, he on top of the covers looking down at Sylar's covered form.

Sylar reached out and clasped Petrelli's arm. Without even knowing what he was doing almost, he leaned up and planted a soft kiss on Petrelli's lips. Peter kissed him back. The feeling was almost familiar. Why? Sylar was just as shocked as Peter and was not surprised when Peter pulled back wordlessly and almost ran out of the room.

The next morning, no one spoke of the kiss. No one spoke at all. Breakfast was eaten, cleared away, and the two sat in the kitchen without knowing what to do. No longer busy with breakfast, the tension in the room grew stronger and stronger. Where was his brother?

Why had Nathan looked at him with Sylar's face? Why had Sylar spoke in Nathan's voice? If he called his brother right now, would he be home, wondering why Peter had not talked to him in weeks? He had a feeling that he would be, that seeing Sylar where he couldn't possibly be was just his intuition telling him that Sylar was not really gone from his life. That he was sticking around to play games.

He looked up at Sylar, who was so very carefully looking at his fingers, examining the nails closely. Studiously looking at anything either than Peter. But not looking as if he meant harm. Not looking as if he wanted to play games. What did he want then? And why had Sylar kissed him? No matter how uncomfortable this might get, he needed answers.

Peter scooted his chair over to Sylar. "Hey. Look at me. We need to talk." Sylar looked up, rising from the chair simultaneously. "I'm sorry Pete. About everything. It was my fault. But I can't talk about it. I gotta go." And with that, Sylar was out of the door and gone. Peter called Nathan's and got the answering machine.

Peter called in sick at work. There was no way that he could be of help to anyone as rattled as he was. His boss just chuckled.

"I'm not surprised. As hard as you've been working of late, kid, no one could keep that up unless he had super powers. Just stay home and rest." No one else but Petrelli could've gotten away without a lecture for calling in.

But Peter had a way of getting to anyone. Apparently, even Sylar. He hung up the phone thinking of the kiss. He tried calling his brother again but no one answered.

Finally at noon, the phone rang and when Peter picked it up a frantic Nathan was on the other end of the line. "Pete. I need you. Get over here. You've been avoiding me and I understand that. Especially now-but please, get over here. Right now." Peter heard Nathan hang up. He did just as Nathan said and left immediately.

Peter thought he would pass out when Nathan opened the door and was standing there in pajamas that looked exactly like the ones he had laid out in the guest room last night. Sylar's. Sylar hadn't even put on his regular clothes in the morning before leaving.

These pajamas, a little too big for Nathan, hung loosely on his thin frame and too long for his height. They had been just big enough, though a little snug, around Sylar. Peter's fear was mixed with something that he couldn't identify. He was definitely going to throw up.

He pushed past Nathan, ran to the bathroom, and his stomach gave up the contents of that morning's breakfast. When he thought he could look at [Nathan? Sylar?] without passing out, he left the bathroom and went into the living room.

"Pete, I'm so sorry." Nathan had clearly been crying. "I don't know how to tell you..." His voice trailed off. Peter couldn't stay away. He sat on the couch by Nathan, rubbing his shoulders. "Nathan, what is happening here? Do you know something I don't?" Nathan looked up into his eyes. "Yeah Pete. I can't believe it myself. But you deserve to know." Not turning away, Nathan held Peter's gaze. He loved him so much, and had to have Peter's support to face the truth. And his own fear.

"Pete, you wouldn't believe what I saw. I went to your house last night to wait on you. At first, I thought I'd fallen asleep-" Here Nathan broke off and had to search for the strength of his voice again. "I thought I'd fallen asleep and was dreaming. I was seeing things, memories, that weren't mine. At first they seemed random, like an excited child telling a story that goes all over the place. But as I looked closer, certain memories fit together, created a chain. The organization of memories that went back neatly for decades. But the contents of the memories were horrifying. Sylar's memories. Body after body being cut, blood drained away. You. Others. And finally me." Nathan's voice faltered, but regained its volume.

I was gone for what felt like forever but I did some searching. These "files" opened easily for me, as if I were the one who'd created them. I could access any memory, and the one with my face in it came up for me quickly. Maybe part of Sylar can't remember anymore, but _this _part knows." Nathan softly tapped his own chest. "He killed me, Pete. He slit my throat in Washington and left me to die. I did die, and-" Peter turned away. "This doesn't make any sense. You've gotta be wrong. It's just a dream!" He looked at the floor, refusing to accept it. Refusing to meet Nathan's eyes. Nathan's voice settled at his ear softly. "Peter. Just listen." He continued.

Ma had Matt purge "Sylar" from his body. And here I am. But I'm not me. I'm _Sylar_. My voice and face different, yes, but it's _him_ underneath. My hands, my eyes don't look like mine and I knew it right off. These hands—they've killed dozens of people, Pete. People close to us. Whoever Nathan Petrelli is…was…he's gone now. Just some random thoughts in a mass murderer's head. You wouldn't believe the things that go through my mind every time I look at you…do you honestly think all of those sick thoughts could ever leave my mind? At this point, Nathan's tears returned. Peter couldn't think of what to say to make it better, to make it go away. But he knew this couldn't be the truth. He'd never let his brother go. "Nathan, I love you. You aren't Sylar. This is crazy. Don't let him win. I don't care what body this is. You are Nathan. My brother, my lover for God's sake! I can't lose you." Peter paused to kiss Nathan. Nathan started to return his kiss, but pushed him away. Peter looked up at him, confused and afraid.

"To the rest of the world, I'm Nathan Petrelli, Pete. But every time you look at me, the way you're looking at me right now, you're gonna see Sylar. Tell me I'm wrong. _Tell me I'm wrong_, Pete."

"I should never have called you to come over here," Peter couldn't believe what his eyes were telling him. Nathan's form was turning into Sylar's as he spoke. "But I couldn't stay away. I love you , Pete." Sylar reached over to kiss Peter, and Peter flew to the door.

Peter didn't have to look behind him as he closed the door to know that the gaze of dark, pain-filled eyes watched him close the door.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Revengehero

Chapter 6 coming soon! Sorry for such a long delay—grad school was a pill to get through J

Peter was gone. The loss was so enormous that neither of them could process it. All that was left was frightening to Nathan, but he tried not to think about it. Not to feel it. Which wasn't meant to be.

Nathan hung his head in despair, and cringed when both of them realized that tears continued to fall to the floor. Nathan could hear Sylar talking to him, just as clearly as if they were in the same room, only closer. Much closer.

"This offer is as good as it gets, Nathan. I'm a selfish son of a bitch, and I'm not going away." Nathan hears the declaration rumble frighteningly in their mind. Nathan sees a cocky, confident posture, but he isn't entirely fooled. From his vantage point, he is familiar with the sadness of it as well. Bluffing.

More honest now: "I want Pete too. I've had him, and I'm not willing to let him go. And if you're not...come to me." Nathan stepped back. Sylar cringed at the swift withdraw. It was harder to connect.

Nathan felt a flare of anger, as strong as it was useless. "You did this to me. To _us_. Why should I listen to anything you say?" Sylar hung his head. No words. Then, he repeated. Now he was begging softly, seductively.

"Come to me, Nathan. Take me in your arms." This man was not without charm of his own. He was Peter's brother. Sylar allowed Nathan in. "See why I chose you?"

Nathan saw his life go by, as if it were a beloved film that showed what perfection could be. Of course, it hadn't really been like that. This was the edited, glorified version. With money, opportunity, beautiful, kind women, a family, and most of all-Peter.

But then the reel spun wildly, and Nathan viewed a "film" that was far more frightening. A young boy whose birth mother was murdered, in far different detail than the "files" he's had access to earlier. Files that were not even accessible before. Hidden away. A young boy being raped. A young boy alone in school, tortured by the other kids. A young boy desperate for love, but so warped that he destroyed everything he touched. The deep grief of his mother's death, entangled with feelings of hatred.

Nathan felt a wave of pity so strong that he began being pulled toward Sylar as if by a force beyond his control. Sylar's voice trembled. "Please…hold me and don't let me go." When he took Sylar in his arms, he felt something that reminded him of Peter. In many ways, Sylar was just like Pete. Nathan felt like weeping as he looked at the lost child with the heavy glasses that was hiding underneath the tough outer shell. He felt attracted to the man that Sylar was trying to be. Without even meaning to, he forgave. Sylar nearly reeled back from this acceptance. So like Peter's embrace the night he slept over. How could such completeness be there for the taking? For a monster like him? He wept at the beauty of it.

As he held Sylar to comfort him, Nathan could hear more clearly a jumble of desperate thoughts: "take me take me take me please I don't wanna be alone ever again I don't wanna be me I went to your office and your house and took your body cause I wanna be you and not me. I deserve to die for my sins. I wanna be good all the time…you're evil too and sometimes I'm good…together we could always be good…take me in your arms and don't let go…it's right, it feels like something will happen…we both need this… please..."

Suddenly, Nathan senses that holding Sylar is no longer an accurate picture of what's occuring. A blinding light is beginning to shine, something that feels like a sharp tug is overwhelming, but not painful. It's just...consuming. Merging. With Sylar in his arms, he's beginning to feel the same as he did with Peter-absolutely right. As the feeling intensifies, the light is brighter, warmer, and so sweet that he is crying. So is Sylar. They merge, hold one another tighter. Never let go. Bad is being erased, good is fitting together. Wholeness, love, mercy, intelligence, sense of humor, caring-all these traits and more merging until there are no two bodies embracing, loving-no more clothes, skin, bones anything. Pure essence. Nathan and Sylar are gone.

The sun has gone down. A handsome young man with black-dark hair stands in front of the mirror. He smiles, and a Petrelli grin covers the young man's face. He feels no fear at the new face. No more sadness of a painful, lonely, or dangerous childhood. No more politician's lies. Just love. And hope. Peter. The young man allows himself to picture his lover on his hands and knees, looking back at him with such trust and joy. Earlier as the young man dressed, he received a phone call that the machine picked up. No message was left, but the number was quite familiar. He had an engagement this evening. Checking his hair and suit one last time, he turned and headed out the door with a jaunty step.

Part 6 coming soon! Please R&R. Sorry it's been so long-grad school was a busy time :)


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6 –This is dedicated to Howlingwolf666

Love You Anyway

By Revengehero

Please Read and Review—this was originally meant to be the last chapter, but I find my story going in a new direction.

A ring at the doorbell brought no answer. Neither did a loud knock at the front door. The young man used Power to let himself in through the locked door. Softly, he let it shut and lock beside him.

"Pete?" he called out softly. On the living room sofa, he found his love stretched out on the couch, asleep. He walked over and leaned over to peer into his face. Dried tears streaked his cheeks, and he wasn't just asleep. He had passed out.

A recently opened pill bottle and a half-empty glass of water stood on the living room table. Worry raced through his mind. Only two pills missing from the new bottle. _Thank God, _he thought. He sat down on the floor, and let his arms wrap around Peter's waist.

He watched him as he slept, occasionally rubbing the younger man's face and hair when he moaned softly. _I love you Pete, _he whispered to the sleeping form.

Peter dreamed that he was sitting outside at Ma's house. He and Nathan were supposed to go hiking today, but Nathan had ball practice that had run on later than it was supposed to. How long would it be before he got to see his big brother?

Pretty soon, Nathan was running up the driveway. "Are you ready, Pete? Let's get going!" Nathan called as he came up. A big smile spread across his face as he beheld his beloved little brother. "What's the matter Pete?"

Peter hadn't moved; he sat there staring behind Nathan's head, off in the distance. An older boy with dark eyes and black hair shyly shuffled up the driveway, keeping his eyes to the ground. Peter felt a twinge of fear. Nathan looked back.

"He's a friend. He's going to hike with us today. He won't hurt a thing." Nathan looked at his brother, his look pleading with Peter to understand. "He's shy. Let's make him feel comfortable. We can do that, can't we Pete?"

As Peter looked at the boy, he noticed he wore thick glasses and looked just as afraid as Peter. Suddenly, he felt sorry for him. He could sense that this boy was all alone, and that it took every bit of courage he could muster to come to this house.

"Sure" Pete replied. "Let's go." He saw the boy smile, and Peter was no longer afraid. When they'd been hiking, they'd gotten tired and had to rest. He suddenly was no longer in the woods, but, as so often happens in dreams, he was in his back yard, on the back porch's swing.

To his left sat Nathan, and the dark-haired boy to his right. Suddenly, all three of them joined hands, and it felt comfortable to be there. Peter smiled, and then laughed, happy to be in the middle surrounded by so much affection.

Peter realized that someone really did have a hold of his hands. When he looked down, there was a beautiful black-dark haired man gently clutching his hands with one hand and rubbing the side of his face with the other. The most accepting, loving expression he'd ever seen. He jumped back.

_Who the hell-_his mind started in, but didn't have a chance to finish. He knew. There were the both of them, Nathan and Sylar, just like in his dream. But different too. Unable to stop himself, he reached out and began to rub his hand along the man's hair, over his forehead, and down the side of his face. He pinched the chin lightly, Then, he brushed his fingertips over the man's full, soft lips. The man's eyes closed as he sharply took in a breath. Then, dark eyes pierced his once more as he opened them. _Both of them, _Peter mused. They were so beautiful together.

"Are you-?" The question died off in midsentence. Sylar? Nathan? He didn't know what or how to ask.

Shockingly, the handsome face broke into a smile. And laughter spilled out. "I'm _me. _Or us, I guess. We're one, Pete. And I'm happy." A pause as the dark man looked at him adoringly. "I love you. You know that, don't you?" Peter found that he did know that. But what was he supposed to do? He got up off the couch and walked over to the window. He stared at nothing; just tried to make sense of something that couldn't make sense.

The dark man stood just behind him. "Pete. I'm happy now. Can't you accept what's happened? Neither of us can be without you. And _we_'re better together." Peter turned slightly to regard the Sylar-esque man lightly tap his own chest at the last assertion. And, to his surprise, Peter could see that they might indeed be telling the truth.

This man before him radiated an aura of stability, emotional security, and most of all, pure love. "I'm done with hatred, with violence, with lies. All I want is you." Peter felt drawn in to this new man, who was so new, yet so familiar.

He felt himself responding in the only way he could. "I know I should be afraid. I feel like maybe, if I let myself stop and think this over, I'd run out the door. But I can't do that. No matter who you are now, no matter what we have to do to be together, I can't stop it. I just-love you anyway."


End file.
